


There's a ghost in my heart that looks like you

by crushing83



Series: Bullets and Blades [3]
Category: Fast and the Furious Series, The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Bard is reincarnated, Bard lives many lives, M/M, Modern Era, Reincarnation, Street Racing, happens a few of years before Fast & Furious 6, poor use of elvish, pre-Furious 6, somehow Thranduil finds him every time, vague descriptions of sexy times
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-17
Updated: 2015-05-17
Packaged: 2018-03-31 01:01:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3958531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crushing83/pseuds/crushing83
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thranduil and Owen race towards something more. Thranduil is caught off-guard by his feelings. Owen is perfectly agreeable. </p>
            </blockquote>





	There's a ghost in my heart that looks like you

The next few minutes were spent in a mad scramble---into their respective cars and out of the parking lot. 

Owen was first onto the street, but he'd had to brake, make a hard turn, and avoid traffic; he essentially cleared the way for Thranduil's exit from the lot, and the elf took advantage of the opening. 

Thranduil was by no means a racer of any kind, but he enjoyed speed and he knew how to strategise and push his (vehicle's) limits. He and Owen volleyed for the lead position through the city streets. There was enough traffic to be a concern, but he was more concerned with winning the impromptu race---

\---until there was a flashing of red and blue lights in his rearview mirror. 

It seemed Kendall Monroe was due for a very large speeding fine.

Or not. 

In a spectacular show of driving skills that Thranduil couldn't quite track, Owen managed to trick the driver of the police car behind a parallel-parked car on the side of the street. It stalled or was stuck, refusing to crash its way out through passing traffic; Owen continued with their race. When he accelerated so he was flush with Thranduil, the elf noticed Owen was driving in reverse. 

"Show off," Thranduil muttered, smiling a little. 

Owen grinned and nodded. He must have read Thranduil's lips. He waved once before braking hard and spinning back behind Thranduil's car. The elf shifted gears and turned onto the street that would take them to their final destination. Owen straightened his vehicle out and slid around the same corner. 

When a row of dumpsters along a building came into sight, Owen shot forward, his car roaring as it took on an extra burst of speed. Thranduil groaned---disappointed, but not too much since he'd had fun racing with Owen---and slowed his vehicle's speed. 

He watched as Owen's car's lights flickered twice and then cut out altogether. Thranduil took the hint---assuming it was instructions to turn off his own headlights---and he followed Owen towards the structure at the end of the road. 

A large garage door rolled up; Owen drove inside. Thranduil followed. By the time the elf was putting his car in park, the door was closing and Owen was out of his vehicle and walking towards him. 

As soon as he opened the door, Thranduil found himself being hauled out of the driver's seat and pressed against his car. When his body made contact with the hard surface, a softer surface pressed against his lips. 

"I am going to teach you how to race properly," Owen promised after a sound kiss. 

"What?"

Thranduil was more dazed than he wished to admit. His pulse, not unaffected by their contest, felt irregular and frenzied after the kiss. He blinked, trying to clear his thoughts. 

Owen smiled and shifted. He was pressed up against the elf's body with one small step. Thranduil bit back every sound he wanted to make. 

"You and me, some fast cars, a deserted road," he explained in fragmented phrases. Owen kissed him again, firmly and briefly. "I know you're a fighter, but I didn't think you had it in you. With a bit of training..." 

"You'd hire me as your new wheel man?" Thranduil asked. 

Owen laughed. Thranduil wanted to lean forward and lick his neck, but he reined in the impulse so he could focus on what the man was saying. "I was thinking it would be something I could teach you in exchange for the sword lessons," he admitted. "Or just something we could enjoy together."

"Together," Thranduil echoed. 

The man nodded. "Maybe I'll even teach you about what's under the hood," he added, his voice taking on a growling tone. "Show you how to modify your car, get your hands dirty..." 

Thranduil rocked against Owen. He couldn't help it. He wasn't at all interested in mechanical work (his car ran fine and that was all he needed to know), but that voice seemed to vibrate through him, hitting every nerve it could possibly reach. 

"You are an adrenaline junkie and a gear head," the elf whispered. 

"Guilty as charged," Owen agreed. 

"And mixing whatever impure thoughts you have been entertaining with a race, no matter how slow it really was by street racing standards, has left you thoroughly riled," he added. 

"It's like you're reading my mind," the man whispered back. He rocked his hips against him and grinned. "But I don't think I'm the only one having impure thoughts, Thran." 

Thranduil grinned back at Owen. "You're reading my mind." 

"Come upstairs with me," Owen murmured in a rough voice. His accent seemed thicker, less metropolitan for those words, as if something practiced and polished was being washed away by the wave of passion threatening to carry them away. "Come upstairs and spend the night." 

"I am not a conquest." 

His statement (demand) might have been undercut by the breathiness in his voice. 

Owen's predatory grin softened. He reached up with one hand cupped the side of Thranduil's face. "I know," he said solemnly. He slid his hand past his ear and into his long blond hair. "I brought you here. The one place I can go that no one else knows about. If you were only a conquest, we'd never have left the pub." 

"You brought me to your secret place?" 

The dark-haired man nodded. "Not even my brother knows about it." 

"Owen..." 

"I've got an instinct about you," he admitted. He smiled. "Upstairs or here on the car?" 

Feeling lighter after hearing his admission, Thranduil laughed and let his hands travel to Owen's waist. "Upstairs. Let's save the car for another time." He leaned in close and let his mouth hover near Owen's ear. "Maybe after you win a real race, you can claim your prize on the hood of your---"

Owen growled and turned his head to claim Thranduil's mouth in a fierce kiss. The elf moaned and rolled his hips. Owen responded with a hip roll of his own. The kiss took on a filthy tone, all tongue and teeth; after a few minutes, both men were on edge and hungry for more. 

Thranduil hadn't meant to get so swept up, but Owen was unexpected; his dangerous edge sang to the reckless and brave aspects of the elf's personality. Before he knew it, he was being tugged away from his car. He was all but dragged into an elevator, he was shoved into its wall, and he was kissed until he couldn't breathe. 

When the elevator's doors slid open, Owen dragged Thranduil into his secret abode---a well-decorated, warmly lit apartment with wide, open spaces and a very large bed---and started tugging at his clothes. 

"I am going to enjoy taking you apart," Owen said. 

Thranduil pulled off his shirt and let it fall on the ground. Then, he took off his necklace, the one with a piece of his son's bow hanging from it, and shoved it into his trousers' pocket. He looked at Owen. He was nervous---he always felt nervous the first time---but he was also very curious to know if Owen's weaknesses were similar to those of his past lives. There were usually differences, but there was always at least one similarity and finding it was a very satisfying experience. It was one of the ways he could tie them all together, in his mind and heart. 

"I might take you apart first," Thranduil replied. 

He grinned, turned them around, and pushed Owen in the direction of the bed. 

Owen laughed as he was shoved onto the soft mattress. He managed to wriggle out of his leather jacket before Thranduil pounced. The blond straddled Owen's hips and tugged open his shirt. Then, he spared a moment to take in the sight underneath him. 

"Like what you see?" 

"You have no idea how much," Thranduil admitted. 

He leaned down and nipped at Owen's collarbone. His future lover's skin smelled delicious; he opened his mouth and licked a line up Owen's neck to discover that it tasted delicious, too. 

"Thran..." 

"Shush. I'm not finished yet."

Owen chuckled as Thranduil started to map out his exposed chest with his mouth and fingers. His hands came up and rested on his head; his fingers threaded through the elf's nearly-white hair. 

He nipped, sucked, licked, and kissed his way along Owen's torso. When his shirt was in his path, Thranduil shoved it out of the way. When he needed to go lower, he wriggled his way down Owen's legs. He nuzzled Owen's stomach. Then, he blew a brief raspberry and delighted when Owen laughed. 

Thranduil licked his way back up through the centre of Owen's chest, wriggling back up so their hips were slotted together. He rocked; Owen rolled. 

Using the knowledge of his past lives and loves, Thranduil reached up and brushed his fingers through Owen's short hair. He missed the usual length of unruly curls, but when he scratched lightly with his nails and Owen moaned loudly, he decided the nearly-shaved look had its benefits. 

He lowered his body until his mouth was hovering over Owen's and repeated the scalp scratching. Owen moaned again; Thranduil kissed him and swallowed the sound. 

The man underneath him tried once to turn them around, but Thranduil locked his thighs in tightly to Owen's hips. He would not relinquish the higher position. He wanted to uncover more of the man's hot spots before giving up any ground. 

Running his fingers over the bridge of Owen's nose made him smile, kissing the underside of his jaw made him hum happily, and nuzzling under his ear made him sigh. None of those reactions was the one for which he was searching. 

It wasn't until he caught one of Owen's nipples in his teeth and bit down that he felt the man stiffen and arch and heard him shout. 

"Thran!"

He lifted his head after releasing Owen's flesh. The man underneath him growled and rolled them before Thranduil could secure his position again. 

"You were lucky," Owen commented. "But now it's my turn." 

Thranduil replied by reaching up and pinching Owen's other nipple between his thumb and fingers. Owen rewarded him with a loud growl. 

"That isn't going to distract me." 

"I will find your other secrets," Thranduil promised. 

Owen grinned. "After I've found some of yours," he conceded. 

"Do your worst." 

His grin took on a feral edge. He tugged his shirt off and threw it over his shoulder. His fingers skimmed over Thranduil's exposed upper body as soon as his hands were free; his touches were light and made the elf shiver. He spent what felt like hours exploring every bit of skin he could reach, first with his hands and then with his mouth. He was thorough, meticulously testing Thranduil's nerves from his head to his hips; when he found a weakness, he would exploit it until he got a reaction, testing lips, tongue, and then teeth against Thranduil's resolve. 

"You are exquisite," Owen whispered. "Out of breath, flushed..." he trailed off as he ground his hips down into Thranduil's and both of them moaned at the increase in pressure and friction. "In my bed, covered in my marks..."  

"Caveman." 

Owen smirked. "Definitely." 

Thranduil turned his head and kissed Owen's hand when it came up to push his hair back. The man's eyes crinkled in a happy way when he saw the points on Thranduil's ears. 

"You're like an elf from a fairy tale," he whispered. 

He lowered himself down and traced a finger over the shell of his ear. Thranduil shuddered. His ears had always been too sensitive for his liking; few lovers had discovered that for themselves as they found the points strange, especially after elves were no more real than characters in other fantastic stories.

"My elf," Owen purred. "I like the sound of that." 

No one had called him that since Bard. Thranduil's heart seemed to lurch in his chest; memories threatened to overwhelm him. His hard-learned habits, the things he had to learn to evolve with society, were slipping away from the front of his mind. He was even struggling to keep his facial glamour in place, to keep his scars hidden. 

At the sound of Owen's words, he was transported back to the Age of Elves. With another touch to his ear, he was nearly lost to sensation. 

"Owen... do not tease---"

Thranduil's words were lost when Owen nipped at his ear's point. 

"I think I will, elf," Owen insisted. He sucked the point into his mouth. Thranduil moaned. He scraped his teeth lightly over the flesh when he pulled away; Thranduil whined and shuddered again. "When I'm fucking you, I'm going to do that again and watch you shatter." 

The blond gasped. It was too much, even as an idea; he closed his eyes and tried to get a grip on his body's reaction to Owen's declaration. 

"Look at you," Owen murmured, "strung out and so close." 

"This is not fair," Thranduil whined. 

"No, it isn't," the man agreed. His free hand reached up and caressed the elf's other ear. He grinned when Thranduil gave another desperate whine. "But, it still tastes like victory," he added before bringing his mouth back to the closest ear point. 

He sucked. Thranduil pressed his hips up, grinding against Owen's body. The pressure was a wonderful addition to the sizzling heat caused by Owen's exploitation of his ears' sensitivity. He tried to stop rocking his hips; unfortunately, though, his mind couldn't harness his body. 

Release hit in an embarrassing, dizzying wave of pleasure and Owen rode him through it for as long as it lasted. 

He turned his head into the pillows, away from the man above him. He felt his face warming; he felt a slight chill of shame in his chest. He'd succumbed too quickly, too easily. He silently cursed his long memory because it hadn't helped him with restraint, either. 

Hands cupped his face and turned him back the other way. Owen looked dazed, but pleased. 

"I apologise---"

"Don't apologise for that," Owen whispered. He leaned down and kissed Thranduil's lips. "You are incredible." 

"I usually have better control," the elf admitted. He sighed and closed his eyes. "If you want me to leave---"

Owen cut him off with a wordless growl. Thranduil's eyes opened at the sound. 

"Here's what's going to happen, Thran," Owen said in a rumbling voice, "I am going to get you naked. I am going to clean you up with my tongue. Then, after a glass of wine, we are going to pick up where we left off." 

"Oh."

Owen smiled. He kissed the elf again before slithering down his body and starting to work on his pants.

They weren't able to follow Owen's plan strictly, but no one seemed to mind much. 

After Owen undressed and cleaned Thranduil as promised, the elf felt exposed and shaky, on unstable ground. He didn't want Owen to see how undone he'd become. He didn't want to explain (lie about) why he was unravelling. 

He knew he'd need to distract him, so he reached out, grabbed his trousers' waistband and belt, and tugged Owen close. 

"What do you want?" 

Thranduil forced his nerves aside and smirked at the man. "A drink," he said teasingly. 

Owen groaned. He nodded his agreement and accommodated Thranduil's removal of the last of his clothes. 

He watched Owen climb back onto the bed. The man was not self-conscious---but he didn't have a reason to be, either. He was similar to his previous reincarnations, in terms of structure (and size, Thranduil couldn't help but notice), but there were a few cosmetic differences that he was looking forward to exploring. 

Owen had tattoos---on his hip, back, and arm---and he was intact. He felt a shiver of excitement as he took in Owen's appearance. Thranduil's last few lovers were circumcised; they hadn't been the consensus, but they'd been frequent and recent enough that idea of something a little different from the (modern) usual was appealing. 

Thranduil crawled towards Owen and kissed his way to where he wanted to be. 

"Tell me if I do something undesirable," he said quietly. 

Owen huffed, almost laughing. "You haven't yet," he assured Thranduil. 

With a smile that allowed him to hide his shaky nerves, Thranduil wholeheartedly applied himself to the task of giving Owen pleasure. He used his hands and mouth and hair (because he remembered how much some of his lovers enjoyed the way those long tresses could wrap and caress) in various combinations until Owen's whole body was rigid. He was strung like a taught bow, ready to snap, and Thranduil couldn't resist looking up to watch the man's face. 

His climax came on a shout. His body bowed, he tossed his head back, and Thranduil's name was called out. 

The elf swallowed him down and pulled back to gently rub his hands over Owen's hips and stomach. 

He looked so much like (a shorn) Bard as he came down from his high---more than any of the others had resembled the original---that Thranduil's heart clenched painfully. 

"You, elf, are truly exquisite." 

Thranduil's heart clenched again. Once the passion of the moment was over, Thranduil's heavier feelings were taking over. He felt his hands start to tremble; he pulled them away and rested his forehead against Owen's hip. 

"Mmm," Owen hummed. He reached down for the blond. He pulled him up so Thranduil was lying against his side. "Thank you." 

Thranduil kissed his chest in reply. 

He felt it was ridiculous to miss Bard so much. He never felt that longing so strongly since he first realised the reincarnations followed a pattern. Owen was very different, but he reminded Thranduil of Bard in small and potent ways. He wanted Owen to be as special as Bard; he felt guilty for that want (especially so soon) and he also still felt some shame at his loss of control. 

If Owen could tell that Thranduil was feeling conflicted, he didn't say anything. He pressed a kiss to the top of Thranduil's head and stroked his fingers along the elf's spine. 

"If I stay much longer, I might fall asleep," Thranduil whispered. 

"Stay," Owen murmured back. "We'll have a coffee in the morning instead of wine tonight." 

Thranduil put his hand on Owen's stomach before he realised it was still shaking. He'd forgotten about the trembling in his desire to make contact. 

Owen noticed. He put a hand over the elf's and squeezed. 

"Light on or off?" 

"Off is fine," Thranduil replied. 

The man snagged his phone from the bedside table and pushed a few buttons. The lights turned off. Thranduil chuckled. 

"Modern technology," Owen commented. 

Thranduil closed his eyes and sighed. Bard was a memory and Owen was flesh and blood, he silently reminded himself. Dwelling on the past would only taint the gift he was being given, so he decided he would try his best to focus on getting to know Owen for as long as the mysterious man allowed. 

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I may have borrowed a bit of movie driving for the race bit. And described a police chase very badly. I am not a racer or stunt driver; I can't make these things up. 
> 
> I also feel like I should say I'm sorry about the smutty bits. It's been a long time since I've written anything like that. Plus, there's the whole "not a guy" thing. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! 


End file.
